As I walked down the halls, this eerie feeling of everyone's eyes watching me crept over me. Heads turned and mouths whispered. Suddenly, my friend Caila pulls me into the bathroom.
         “Brynn! Everybody's staring at you!” she said.
         “Why?” I replied, feeling skeptical. When I walk down the halls, people make way for me because of I’m popular and special when I really do not feel the way.
          “You’re not wearing any makeup at all,” Caila exclaimed , as if it was the worst thing anyone could ever do. So this is what it was about. My appearance. I chose not to wear any makeup today for the first time in my high school life because I did not have time in the morning. I didn't even think people would care or even notice. I was very wrong. Caila quickly put mascara and lip gloss on me.
         “Now you look perfect. You should thank me for saving you from any more embarrassment,” Caila said once she had finished making me look “perfect”. Was I not perfect without makeup?
         “Thank you.” I gave her a reassuring smile, not wanting to upset her. We left the bathroom and raced down the hall. No one was rudely staring at me anymore. They were admiring me because I looked how I normally looked everyday with all the perfect makeup and perfectly planned outfits. I was perfect. Or so they thought.
          The bell rang, signaling the end of the long school day. Student swiftly raced out of classroom doors and to their lockers. After a few minutes, the noise of chatter died down as the hallways were empty of people except me. As I slowly strided down the hall ready for the walk home, a sound captured my attention. No, not a sound. I heard music. I halted to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Curiosity struck as I followed the music all the way to the art room. From outside of the art room, it looked empty with its long empty tables and turned off lights. The only light present were the sun rays peeking through the windows.  I slowly crept into this unknown room as my eyes diverted to a girl in the very back corner of the room. Her back was facing towards me as she sat on a wooden stool in front of a radiant canvas of colors, lightly holding a palette of acrylics. As I came closer, she kept on working as if she was the only person in the world. Light strokes, dark strokes, and all strokes in between lit up her canvas as I stood there watching. I was simply mesmerized. The mix of colors came together so perfectly as a beautiful mess. Minutes went by until she finally turned around and noticed me, standing there in awe. Her messy hair and her smock was splattered in paint. I suddenly realized that I knew her. Leila Frank. I saw her pass by everyday in the hall but thought too much about her until now. Everyone at school and I have always known her as the “weird, fat” girl in school, always having her nose buried in a sketch pad. People call her “Leila Fat” because of her weight. But now, when I see her paint, she's not the loser everyone thinks she is. She's an artist with so much talent hiding beneath her. There's not doubt about it that she's not talented.
         “Wow,” I said, “You’re really good.” For a split second, her eyebrows furrowed as if she's never heard anyone say that to her.
         “Thanks.” Her voice squeaked so that she said it more as a question rather than a response. I smiled. She smiled back, realizing that I was actually serious. “That means a lot.”
          “I could definitely paint that,” I jokingly said, pointing to her masterpiece. “Not.”
          “It honestly just takes practice and dedication. Anyone can be an artist. Even you. Want to try painting with me?” The second after she asked, she looked down. “I mean, you don't have to. You probably have better things to do than to hang out in the art room.”
          “No, I'd love to!” Her eyes lit up. She handed me a canvas and a paintbrush. I just stared at the blank canvas sitting in front of me, waiting for its first stroke of color “What do I paint?”
          “That's up to you. Paint your feelings. Your hopes. Your desires. Whatever you want.” I decided on painting a small, normal flower. And another a flower. And another, until my canvas was full of identical yellow flowers. Right in the corner, I painted another flower. But this time it was purple. Purple like the streak of my hair. As the tip of my brush lightly stroked the rough surface of the canvas, I realized how much I missed art. I remember when I was younger, I would love to draw and paint. Over the past years, I had forgotten my passion for art.
          “That's amazing! You’ve never done art before and you can do this? Wow.” Leila said in awe as she stared at my painting from top to bottom.
And it went on everyday like this. After school at 2:30 sharp, I would race straight to the art room, where I would find Leila and I would start to paint. Over the weekend, I would go to her house and we would paint, talk, laugh, and tell secrets. We became best friends. Inseparable friends.

I stared into space as my mom went on and on about college. It was junior year, the time where college visits took place. The time where you decided who you are, who you’re going to be, and who you want to be. For my whole life, I thought I was going to be a doctor. My grandmother was a doctor, my parents are doctors, and my sister is striving to become a doctor. It makes sense that I would be a doctor too. But today, I felt different. This feeling of inspiration and confidence surged through me. I could do so much more with my life. So right then and there, as my mother was going on and on about my future as a doctor, I just blurted out,
“I want to be an artist.” Only silence responded back to me. My mom just stared back at me as my sister in the kitchen slowly turned her head towards me. My dad warily looked up from his computer screen.  That moment of silence lasted for eternity until my mother finally responded.
“What?” Her voice was soft as a whisper but struck me like lightning. “An artist? Brynn, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes I do. I’ve been painting a lot with Leila lately and I know that being artist is not practical, but it’s my passion.”
“That Leila girl is becoming a bad influence on you. You are not going to pursue art. You will study medicine and become a doctor like the rest of your family. No questions. Go do your homework now.” Her voice was never this stern so instead of protesting like I normally would do, I obeyed her and went upstairs to finish homework. But that didn’t mean I was furious at her. Since when did she have the right to plan my future? The following Monday morning I ignored her as I left for school.

“Where were you yesterday? You said you would come shopping with us but you didn’t show up. What is up?” Caila asked as she chased me down in the hallway. I was about tell her about the awesome day I had with Leila where we bought spray paint and created spray paint pieces. But right then and there, I saw Leila at the end of the hall, being shoved into the lockers and taunted by some girls. So I panicked and was reminded of the consequences of my honesty. What if my friends found out I was hanging out with the weird girl? What if the whole school found out? I would be dead for sure. I would be the girl who was shoved into the lockers. I couldn’t let that happen. My high school life would be over.
“Oh I am so sorry. My parents grounded me. You know how they are.” I lied as I looked down at the floor.
“Oh so it just happened that they grounded you again? Just like all of the other days we wanted to hang out with you? Stop making excuses, Brynn.”
I didn’t know what to say so I just walked away. Walked away from the guilt.
“Is it because you were hanging out with that Leila girl?” Caila suddenly yelled. I stopped in my tracks and zipped my head around.
“What?” I said. How does she know?
“Don’t look surprised. I heard you guys laughing in the art room together last week. I’m not stupid. Pretty soon the whole school’s going to find out and you are going to be doomed.” No one approved of my friendship with her, not even my own mother. It struck me that the only way to be safe was to drop Leila. To leave the one person who has been a true friend to me. The two choices that impacted my fate laid in front of me. There was no easy way out.

Days went by as I avoided the art room after school. What was I thinking, hanging out with some random girl who has been distracting me from becoming the person I should be when I grow up? I’ve always wanted to be a doctor and live up to my family tradition. If I chose art, I would be excluded from my own family. As I was walking to class, someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned around and there Leila was standing in front of me. Her eyes were confused.
             “How come I haven't seen you lately in the art room?” she asked. I fiddled with my pencil and stared at the floor.
             “I've been super busy lately with homework. I have to get good grades if I want to go to a good college.”
             “Oh. Ok. You wanna swing by my house over the weekend to paint? I just got some new oil paints.” She said with a dash of hope in her voice.
             “I'm sorry, I can't.” I coldly said.
             “What about next Monday? I'll wait until next week so we can use the paints together. You're going to love them.” She kept on rambling on and on so I figured it was time to cut her off.
              “Leila! Stop! Look, I just can't hang out with you anymore. You're distracting me from me getting good grades. I'm sorry, but I don't care about your stupid oil paints.” Everyone started to stare at us as my voice grew louder. “I have to go.” I quickly turned away and kept walking.
              “I thought you were different. I thought you were an actual good person. I was wrong. You’re just afraid of hanging out with me because I'm not as popular and perfect as you. And because I don't fit into your little, perfect world. Right?” Her sudden, fierce words made me stop with my back facing her. She was right. But I just shook my head and continued walking. At night, her words repeated over and over in my head as I tried to fall asleep. I kept on reassuring myself that I did the right thing. That I was a good person no matter how much I had hurt her. That her words meant nothing. Nothing at all.
             Soon, I was back to my normal schedule of going to school, studying hard, and hanging out with Caila and the rest of the group. It was lunch in the cafeteria and I was sitting with all of them as they were talking about the newest nail polish. Even though I had no interest in their conversations, I kind of liked being popular. Being accepted. I looked around the cafeteria and saw that everyone was staring at us, wanting to be like us. I smiled. It felt good. My eyes scanned around the room as my eyes spotted Leila staring straight at me with shame. My smiled faded for a second as I was reminded again of her words. But I quickly turned back to my table and smiled a big, wide smile to look happy. Because I was happy. Wasn't I?

Report card day. The dreaded day of high school. The manila envelopes holding the precious A’s...and the shameful F’s. I handed my report card to my mother like I did every term and waited for her to see my grades. I clenched my fist, praying for good grades. Not good grades. Exemplary grades.
           “Two B’s?! Brynn, what happened to your straight As?” Her sudden voice of disappointment almost knocked me down. I took a look at the report card and blinked my eyes in disbelief.
           “Brynn, if you can't succeed if you're going to get Bs,” she sternly said when I fell silent. “Doctors don't get Bs. We get As.”
           “I'm sorry, Mom. I was just pretty distracted this term. I'll work at it to get my grades back up.” I sighed.
           “You know, your sister never let distractions get in her way. You need to learn how to be like her.” she said. This sudden furiously hiding beneath me rose. Rose like it never had before.
           “Mother! I am not Lisa! Why can't I do whatever I want to do with my life? It is MY life, not yours nor Lisa’s. So stop forcing me to be someone I'm not.” I yelled. Loud. My mother looked almost shocked. I'm never like this. I always obey rules and act like everything's okay. When it’s not. This time I wouldn't ignore my feelings. I stormed up the stairs, into my room, and slammed the door. All of the tears that I had been suppressing suddenly surged out of me. Tear of anger. Tears of loneliness. As my tears died down a bit, I heard a knock on my bedroom door. My sister crept into my room.
         “What do you want? To gloat about how amazing you are and how much of a failure I am?”
         “Definitely not. I'm actually admire you, Brynn. Which is weird since you're my little sister.” She said with a quiet laugh.
         “What?” I was completely confused. My older, perfect sister admires me? No way.
         “Look, you had the courage to finally speak up to Mom. I never had that courage. I think the only reason I'm striving to become a doctor is not because I want to be one, but the pressure Mom forces on me. I actually wanted to study creative writing. And I don't even like Yale. The teachers are so strict and hard. I stay up until 3am doing what? Doing homework. I'm just saying that you should learn from my mistakes. I should have never listened to Mom . I should've listened to myself. That's what I want you to do, little sis.” Her lecture opened my eyes to who my sister truly was. It felt good knowing that she isn't as perfect as everyone says she is.
            “Thanks Lisa. Sorry for always being so rude to you. I was just jealous of how much Mom and Dad adore you,” I said. She just laughed.
            “You don't have to be jealous of me. I should be jealous of you considering how good at art you are. I saw some of your paintings the other day laying in the hall. You have talent.” She smiled and was about to speak more but I interrupted her with a great, big hug. I finally understood my sister. And she understood me.
So the following Saturday morning, I felt different. I felt like I could be anything. I looked at myself in the mirror and spotted my purple streak of hair. This was it. This was the day where I could leave all of my insecurities and fears behind. So I had my sister drive me to the Bella Kennedy hair salon.
“Hi, I want to dye my hair purple.” I told the hairdresser. She just looked at me, then laughed. Then she wiped the smile off her face when she realized I wasn’t kidding.
“Oh honey, are you sure about that? That is a really big change. You are going to stand out too much.” she replied. I didn’t care. It felt right. For once, I was being different than every other blonde kid at my school.
“I am sure.” I said with confidence. So that day I walked out of the hair salon with lilac purple hair. The minute I saw myself in the mirror, I knew I would love it. My locks of purple complimented my green eyes so well. Most people would think purple hair would look crazy. But on me, it looked gentle and happy. I looked good. Now that I made one thing right, it was time to make the rest of my life right.
The following Monday morning, I raced to Leila’s locker. She was taking out her binders until I tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and her eyes widened at the sight of my purple hair. For just a split second, I saw the tiniest smile but it quickly faded into a frown of anger.
“Hey,” I quietly said.
“Why are you talking to me? You should probably go before your friends come and see that you’re associating with a loser.”  she hastily said.
“I don’t care about what they think of me anymore. I don’t care about what anyone thinks of me. I want to be your friend, Leila. For the record, you are not a loser, more like the opposite. You’re so fun and nice and the only person in this school that actually likes me for who I am. Will you forgive me for being a jerk and become my friend again?” She stared at me, pondering at whether she should forgive me or not. A smile slowly crept on her face.
“Okay?” I said, hoping she wouldn’t turn back to her angry face.
“Okay.” she said. “I love your hair by the way.”  I smiled. And I smiled big. We linked arms and walked down the halls together as Caila approached us.
“What happened to your hair?” she said with disgust. “Why did you change your beautiful blonde hair to this icky purple?” No matter how much her words hurt, I just kept smiling.
“Caila, I think it looks good. If you don’t like it, you can just go.” I politely told her. She stormed off in disbelief at what I had just said to her. As I kept on walking down the halls, even more people were staring at me. But I felt even more confident. I didn’t have to hide who I was to the school anymore because here I am. Yes, there were many people who teased me but eventually everyone got bored of constantly judging my hair and my new friends. They all got used to the new me. The weird, purple haired, art loving, girl of the school. That’s me. And I’m proud. You can’t change people’s opinions of you but you can learn to ignore them and accept that their opinions don’t not matter. The only opinion that matters is your own. The only thing that matters is to always listen to yourself instead of others around you. So from then on, that’s what I did.